When it Comes to Italy, One Word Says It All: Franciacorta

Over the years, I found myself returning to Italy time and again, whether it be for weddings, fashion weeks, philanthropic events, or family escapes. At some point, dare I admit, a touch of Italian fatigue began to set in. I know, sacrilege! Yet my last visit, back in 2017, feels like a lifetime ago now. Then again, doesn’t everything pre-Covid? As it turns out, absence really does make the heart grow fonder. When I returned this past September, it was to explore an area outside Milan I had never seen or heard much about before: Franciacorta. In a country defined by its hidden treasures, this felt like one to be discovered all along. Far from the bustle of the touristy cities lies a landscape of gentle hills and vine-striped slopes overlooking one of Italy’s smaller, lesser-known lakes, Lago d’Iseo. Some may remember it from a decade ago, when The Floating Piers—Christo and Jeanne-Claude’s ambitious installation—briefly connected the lake’s islands to the mainland. Since then, the area has remained quietly under the radar, except, of course, for those in the know.

Franciacorta in the Province of Brescia, Lombardy, Italy

The drive from Milan to Franciacorta takes a bit over an hour, yet it feels like crossing a threshold. I very willingly left behind the bustle of the city’s Fashion Week for something slower. When I arrived, the morning sun was high, casting rays of gold across the Lombard hills as they fed into the shimmering expanse of distant Lago d’Iseo. All set against the Rhaetian Alps, the picturesque scene was literally, well, dreamlike. By way of background, winemaking here dates back centuries, but Franciacorta, as it’s known today, was born only in the 1970s. Since the 1990s, its craft has been safeguarded by The Franciacorta Consortium, an organization that ensures every winemaker adheres to the region’s strict standards, even earning DOCG status in 1995. To qualify as Franciacorta, grapes must be hand-harvested from the winemaker’s own vineyard, and the wine must undergo a second fermentation inside the bottle, the same laborious “méthode champenoise” used in Champagne, France. Essentially, it’s an art form measured in patience: every Franciacorta wine must age for at least 18 months, although often they will age far longer. The result is sheer elegance, with a creamy richness balanced by delicate acidity and arguably finer bubbles than Champagne. The blend may consist of one or more of Chardonnay, Pinot Bianco, and Pinot Nero, capturing the landscape’s mineral-rich and aromatic soil.

I visited a couple of the vineyards in the few days I was there—Ca’ del Bosco and Monte Rossa, specifically—and was met each time with the same quiet pride.  However, each winemaker seemed less like a producer and more like a custodian of something sacred, each a guardian of a landscape that gives generously but demands devotion in return; the perfect relationship, one may argue.

My first stop was through the sunburst gates of Ca’ del Bosco, the region’s most artful expression of that devotion and a vineyard that seems to be the aspiration of others. The estate itself is quite literally a living gallery. At its entrance stands Arnaldo Pomodoro’s monumental bronze gate, Cancello Solare, its rays stretching left to right as if to capture the very sun that feeds the vines. Inside, installations by artists like Igor Mitoraj and Stefano Bombardieri transform the property into an open-air museum where art, nature, and winemaking converge. The vineyard itself, 280 hectares across 11 communes, is entirely organic and meticulously cultivated. Workers hand-train each vine using Guyot and spurred cordon systems, maintaining biodiversity through spontaneous grasses, wild plants, and even olive groves. The winemaking process is also choreographed to perfection: I learned that Ca’ del Bosco is one of the few wineries in the world that washes its grapes before fermentation, using a unique air-bubble system to remove sulfates and impurities. For me, someone who is very sensitive to sulfates (and therefore headaches), I was fascinated by this process, albeit a little shocked at how uncommon the practice actually is among the global supply. Haven’t we all been taught that washing our fruits before ingesting them is the best practice?

After a quick rundown of operations, we entered a sensory chamber followed by a hidden elevator, which sat within a room lined with thousands of backlit wine bottles, giving the impression of being in an upside-down bottle of bubbly. Once again, another commissioned artwork, it’s purpose to elevate the ordinary into the otherworldly. The subterranean levels, on the other hand, were rooms dedicated to “remuage,” the careful rotation of bottles during the second fermentation that coaxes sediment toward the neck before disgorgement. There, the sounds of glass turning against wood echo throughout the caves, giving visitors the feeling they are not just casual observers, but participants immersed in the process. Our tasting ended with Maurizio Zanella, the warm, charismatic, and truly ageless founder who started Ca’ del Bosco in 1975 and whose vision has shaped Franciacorta’s modern identity. He recounted how he transformed a farmhouse in Erbusco into what many now consider the crown jewel of the Franciacorta Consortium. Afterward, lunch at Al Malò in Rovato was a study in contrast, contemporary yet deeply rooted in Italian tradition. The chef’s langoustine ravioli was delectable. So much so, I decided to have a second helping of ravioli for dessert. That time, apricot-filled. Sue me, I’m in Italy!

Later that afternoon, after a quick transfer to Sulzano, I boarded a small boat for a ride across Lago d’Iseo, the antithesis of the crowded lakes further North. As we began gliding slowly toward Monte Isola, the largest lake island in Europe, I couldn’t help but feel as though it’s a place that time seems to have forgotten. With its narrow streets running the perimeter—no cars here—the only mode of transportation seemed to be by foot, bike, or fishing boat, many of which were tethered to centuries-old, weathered docks. Without much else on the island besides private residence, I decided to do as the locals do: I stopped for a glass of Franciacorta at a small, family-run trattoria, catching the last of the sun that day.

Back on the boat again, we rounded the far side of Monte Isola, the landscape unfolding cinematically as we passed by a 15th-century castle, along with another small island crowned by the Beretta family’s villa. Truth be told, I could not have imagined a more wistful afternoon. By sunset, I arrived back in Sulzano to Hotel Rivalago, where my penthouse suite had a sprawling terrace overlooking the pool, gardens, lake and beyond. I watched the horizon shift through a dozen shades of pink and gold as the sun tucked behind the Alps. I took an aperitivo along the water’s edge, watching ducks ripple across the still evening waters, and all I could think was, “this place is pure magic.”

Lago d’Iseo from the Penthouse Terrace at Hotel Rivalago

The next morning brought me to Monte Rossa, another storied vineyard, where the Rabotti family has been perfecting Franciacorta since 1972. The new cellar, an avant-garde, subterranean structure built on three levels, is an incredible marriage between modern design and sustainability, a reflection of owner Emanuele Rabotti’s belief that beauty and function can, and should, coexist.

My guide that day was the grandson of the founders, Paolo and Paola Rabotti. He told me about their playful branding: each cork bears a cage printed with a different billiards ball and Italian word.  For instance, five translates to mean “enjoy,” one “conquer,” nine “dream,” seven “kiss,” and twelve “love.” He himself has only landed the elusive eight ball, “win,” three times. Not surprising given it appears in just one of every 300 bottles. However, he told of a story where one of those times, he may have snuck a peak at the assembly line, may have marked the bottle before it was foil-wrapped, and may have given it to his current girlfriend on her birthday, leading her to believe that she was one very lucky lady that evening. Well, your secret is safe with me, so long as she isn’t reading this article, that is.

When Emanuele himself joined us for the tasting, he carried that same mischievous spark. Between different pours, he recounted how, many years ago, he crashed a Palm Desert party hosted by Barbara and Frank Sinatra, and, by sheer charm, persuaded them to try his Franciacorta. He still has a picture of them from that evening, along with Barbara’s personal thank you note, framed in his office, a testament to his humor and charisma and the wine’s exquisite properties. He was also one of the fortunate ones who attended this year’s Emmy Awards in his role of Consortium President, as Franciacorta was an official sponsor.

Following Monte Rossa, lunch was at Hill Colle Camere & Bistrot, where Chef Augusto Pasini welcomed me with the kind of warmth that feels distinctly Italian. Pasini cooked at last year’s Emmy Awards—the first Italian chef ever invited—and recreated for us the same dish he served in Los Angeles: pan-fried gnocchi in parmesan butter, crowned with truffles. In other words, pure decadence. After five impeccable courses and three glasses of Franciacorta, it was on to Paris Fashion Week for me. However, by the time I left, I carried more than just a belly full of food and wine. Franciacorta had revealed itself as something rare; not simply a purveyor of sparkling wine (re: not to be confused with prosecco), but a way of life. It’s art in motion, time distilled, and beauty made drinkable. I just hoped, after all that indulgence, I still fit into my clothes!

Elizabeth Kurpis in Lafayette 148 on the Penthouse Terrace at Hotel Rivalago

All Images: Courtesy of Franciacorta and elizabethkurpis/Instagram (unless otherwise noted)